


John saves the day and the Night

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John Watson, Gun Violence, John is funny, John is loving, M/M, Not against John or Sherlock, Sherlock deduces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: John rescues Sherlock. John is BAMF and funny. Doctor John takes care of Sherlock. Sherlock deduces John. Love is in the air.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	John saves the day and the Night

“Put him down, NOW!” John shouts in his command voice. “I WILL shoot you.”

John Watson held his gun at the ready. The thug held the unconscious Sherlock up by the collar of his Belstaff, brandishing a gun to his head, did not look like he believed John at all.

The gunman merely grins.

John shoots, the bullet passing a mere centimeters from the gunman’s body, exploding his left ear.

Screaming and grabbing the area where the ear used to be, the gunman instantly drops Sherlock and his gun as he falls to his knees.

“Bleeding idiot!” John says coldly.

John kicks the discarded gun down the alley way. Taking a plastic tie out of his jacket pocket, he slips his gun into the holster at the small of his back. There is blood everywhere and the bad actor is crying, cradling the bloody remains of his ear. John grabs up the gunman’s hands, using the zip tie to restrain him. 

As the screaming, bleeding perp writhes in the background, John kneels. Examining Sherlock’s his head wound, searching his eyes and checks his vitals. Pulling his mobile out, he speed-dials Lestrade. Shite there is no reception here he thinks

The prospect of trying to carry his giraffe sized friend toward the road so that he can catch a cab or find a signal is daunting. And he can’t leave the perp here unguarded either? What to do?

Sherlock’s homeless network is everywhere, why not here?

“Hello,” he yells. “I am Dr. John Watson; I’m with Sherlock. We need help. I need to get him to hospital.”

John waits a bit. Scanning the area, there isn’t much here. Could the Homeless Network exist out this far? Was he wasting time, then...

From out of the shadows several people approach him cautiously. John stands, taking a long calming breath. He places his best ‘I’m totally non-threatening demeanor on’ as they come closer. They are not terrified, just very cautious. Then he remembers the still writhing and whimpering criminal behind him.

“It’s okay, I had to protect Sherlock. That is why I shot this blighter. He won’t hurt anyone now.” 

“Dr. Watson,” a fair haired young woman says, “I’ve sent someone to call police and ambulance. Is there anything that you need immediately?”

“A blanket would be good. I’d like to keep him warm if possible.”

A teenage male comes forward with a thread-bare but clean blanket that they placed over Sherlock.

“Thank you,” John says, “I appreciate your help.”

“We were afraid at first, Dr. Watson. We saw that arsehole hurt Sherlock. We are glad you took him down. Is Sherlock going to be alright?

“Please call me John. Yeah, I think he’ll be okay.” 

“John?”

“Sherlock, I’m right here.” John kneels close. “Do you remember what happened? Where you are?”

“I’m being saved, yet again, by my very best friend,” he says as he delicately touches his injured forehead. A slight smile ghosting across his lips.

“Yes, you are,” John smiles, clearing his throat. “I have saved so much of your bacon, Sherlock, that I now own the pig.”

Sherlock and the people of his homeless network all snicker at John’s joke.

(-_-)

After a horrendous five hours at A and E. John finally has Sherlock back at Baker street. 

“John, I don’t know why you subject me to the idiots at hospital. When you can tend to me quite on your own.”

“When I have a bloody CT scan machine in my bleeding back pocket so I can run you through it at the drop of a penny. I would gladly take care of you here, you git.” John proclaims with little anger. He knows Sherlock hates the restrictions of hospitals.

“So what would you like for intellectual nourishment this evening.” John queries as he opens the refrigerator. 

“How about that thing with peas.” 

“You like that, don’t you.”

“It is toothsome.” Sherlock admits. 

John comes into the sitting room, leaning on the door jam. He watches as Sherlock fiddles with the bandages on his head.

“Please leave the wrap alone, Sherlock.”

“They’ve got it on wrong, John. I can feel the wrongness.”

Tilting his head in a questioning way. John sighs. “Let me wash up and I’ll have a look.”

Washing his hands in the sink, he grabs his medical bag from the sitting room and sits next to his fidgety flatmate. “Budge up.” He moves Sherlock over to make room for him on the couch. Gloving up, he begins to remove the bandage.

“I see the problem, my friend. It’s not the bandage. You’ve got a popped stitch. It’s an easy fix. Give me a mo and I’ll have you all patched up.”

John works his magic and gently applies a fresh gauze wrap to the wound. 

“That feels so much better John. It was making me mental. See you are more competent than those imbeciles on staff.”

“You are incredibly sensitive to the wound. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re ultra sensitive to the world at large.” John replaces several of Sherlock’s errant curls back over the gauze on his forehead.

Sherlock reaches out, taking John’s smaller hand in his. “The world at large is so much more palatable since I’ve found you, John.” His voice is deep with unspoken emotion.

“Found me? Wasn’t it more like Mike serving me up like a delicate dish; flatmate à l'orange.” 

Sherlock giggles like a schoolboy. His features take on a boyish quality that John loves beyond reason. Almost imperceptibly John is drawn into the extravagant long embrace of Sherlock Holmes.

“Are you questioning my veracity, Doctor Watson?” Sherlock scans John’s features as he brings him ever closer into the circle of his arms; seeing only acceptance, compassion and a love that deepens with each and every breath. By tiny increments of eternity, Sherlock transports his lips to the location where John exists. He kisses his doctor/soldier, feeling John’s lips smile beneath his. 

“Never. I would sooner sprout wings and fly to the moon.” John’s eyes sparkle.

“My love. Even when you don’t speak the words I feel them in my heart.” Sherlock seeks another kiss, but John beats him to it.

“Yes, my love, it is true. You have deduced my true feelings. Does it please you?”

“One thing would please me more.” Sherlock confesses.

John deduces correctly. Standing, he helps Sherlock to his feet. Then guides them both to what will be ‘their’ bedroom. “Nothing would please me more, than pleasing you. But we will have to be careful for a while till your wound is healed.”

Sherlock sighs in contentment. “I leave myself in your capable hands.”

They both laugh at the image that conjures up.


End file.
